


a little death

by jhvce



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, ah well, wonder if its too early to make this joke yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:24:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhvce/pseuds/jhvce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>have you ever felt death's touch?</p><p>have you ever felt death's kiss?</p><p>leo has felt it. he's felt it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little death

Leo has felt it.

He's felt licking flames surround him, touching him softly yet never leaving a mark, never leaving a pain he yearned for. He's felt the scorching fire in his lungs, burning him from the inside, something that will never heal. He's felt the heated smoke flow through his throat, cutting off his breath, choking on the exhale that never came.

He's felt the blistering cold creep across his body, his body that is usually at higher temperatures than normal. He's felt its icy stare on his back, felt it crawling up on him, he knew it was coming, he just never knew it would be so soon. And he's felt its freezing touch, finger's grazing his cheek, threading through his hair, clenching his jaw, gagging his throat.

Leo's felt death. He's never felt anything like it.

And he wanted to feel it again.

 

* * *

  

He's felt the return. He was probably the only one alive who's ever felt it. The feeling of coming back to life.

It felt like coming out of the water after a dive, the last remnants of death stick to your skin as a reminder. But Leo hates the water. He's hated it ever since he's found out he couldn't survive in it, that fire dies by water, that someday that would be his demise.

Luckily when his demise did come, he did not go by water. If he started by fire, he would end by fire, and at first, it was compelling, it was a relief.

But the realization came to soon for him.

And he was so disappointed to wake up from intense darkness, so disappointed to wake up from an eternal slumber he would have gotten so used to, so disappointed to get one more chance at life because he believed he didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve any of this at all.

He's felt it. And he hated it so much.

 

* * *

 

Being alive was a pain.

Being alive meant watching his friends pair off, watching them grow up, watching them fall in love. Being alive meant always chasing the wrong person, running in circles until his sanity slips out of his hands.

He's felt that before- the feeling of falling. He's felt that rush, that sense of fresh air that turns into polluted feelings, twisting and turning in his stomach.

But there were times, so many times, where he wished to feel. When he wished to feel hard muscles tighten underneath his touch, to feel threads of blonde hair twine through his fingers, to feel that scar on a lip, edged and rough.

Such an illusion it was to fall in love and yet he's felt it so many times, more than he can count. He's felt the bad end of it all, the painful pang in his heart as he is rejected once more.

It was worse than death. Being alive was worse than death.

Never again did he want to feel that- such terrorizing feelings. And when he died, he thought, finally, at last, was he freed from the torture of following patterns and wearing painted smiles, and finally, at last, he didn't have to fall for anyone anymore.

Until he met him.

And he swears this was the last time he would fall, he swears, he swears, he swears.

 

* * *

 

Have you ever felt Death's touch?

Have you ever felt Death's kiss?

Leo has felt it. He's felt it all.

He's felt it twice. And it was exhilirating; to be overpowered, to be underneath him, to be weak and boneless and breathless by just one touch.

He's felt it. Felt it in the form of Death itself- crushing, merciless, inevitable for every person that walks with breath and beating heart, destroying his very soul from within.

He's felt it. Felt it in the form of a human, pinning him down with thin arms and strong hands that have felt the hilt of a sword so familiar, rough, hungry tongue so smooth against the skin below his navel making him arch his back in pleasureful sin, just as powerful, just as merciless as death.

This boy that had him hooked on a leash, this boy he wanted to worship like a god, this boy- he swore, he swore, he swore- was Death.

He had his own name. Nico di Angelo. Ironic, however, was his last name, Angel.

His touch freezing, their temperatures contrasting in the most cosmic ways, and he's reminded of Death's cold touch (grazing his cheek, threading through his hair, clenching his jaw-). His kiss like fire, his breath flowing down his throat, filling his lungs like smoke and he's reminded of Death's inhale (burning him from the inside, cutting off his breath, choking on the exhale-).

It was intoxicating. Mind-numbing. He never wanted it to stop, never wanted it to end. He leaned in close into Nico's ear.

"Touch me," he whispered, and Nico did, running pale hands over tanned skin, touching him so agonizingly slow, so gentle and yet such a fallacy, turning to blunt nails scratching down his back until beads of red run down leaving marks in its trail.

"Kiss me," he whispered, and Nico did, lips so chapped and thin pressed against his own until he's sure they're sharing one breath, and those lips move to his neck and it turns into bites with sharp teeth that leave him a moaning, whimpering mess.

"Fuck me," he whispered, and Nico did, so languidly, wantonly, thrusts so shallow and yet so deep, as if he knew all the right places that made him shiver, grasping the sheets and arching his neck back in a curse, until everything became so overwhelming, in such heated, blissful passion he could feel himself breaking-

"Destroy me," he whispered. And Nico did.

He is reminded of death so much in this graceful boy and his elicit ways.

And yet, he has never felt so alive.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry this was so poetic and crap im practicing list poems in my writing class and this happened. dont worry im working on other works atm
> 
> i'm also taking prompts or requests or if u just wanna talk to me (preferably about valdang ;^) ) u can hmu on tumblr @ potatoangels thanks -jade


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